


Impulse/Implant/Implement

by Anonymous



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: BDSM, Daddy Kink, Edit: CAN YOU BELIEVE THIS GOT JOSSED, Elias Is A Bastard Man, Emotional Manipulation, Impact Play, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Impregnation, M/M, Other, Psychic Manipulation, Public Sex, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Fantasy, Trans Jon, Trans Male Character, the following depicted in fantasy:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:26:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21989479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Over the decades, Jonah Magnus has developed a bit of a hobby. He brushes fantasies into his employees' unsuspecting minds.
Relationships: (imagined?), (one-sided), Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Jonathan Sims/Tim Stoker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 445
Collections: Anonymous Fics





	Impulse/Implant/Implement

Jonah has developed something of a hobby over the past decades. Planting a flash of fantasy, a few images, and watching people scramble to justify or deny it. He’s given quite a few employees shameful new fetishes.

The first time he does it to Peter he’s barely twenty and incredibly rude, hands still soft, hair and beard still unremarkable mousy brown. He tailors the scene a bit more than he usually would; usually he delights in shocking his targets, but he wants to undo this fresh-faced Lukas brat with how badly he _wants_ it.

He gives Peter this:

 _“_ _You lost count.”_

 _Silk sheets and the zip of high-speed leather and pale flesh gone red with impact._ _Decadent._

_Overwhelming._

_“I’m sorry, Daddy.”_

_Shame,_ _sobbing,_ _tears,_ _raised welts throbbing_ _in time with frantic heartbeats. Aching, gnawing arousal._

_“How will you make it up to me?”_

_A sharp tap_ _to_ _his balls, a jolt, a tortured cry and a pulse of exquisite pleasure. Shaking hands spreading his own stinging cheeks, a tender_ _little_ _hole presented as penance._

Peter gasps, spots of color high on his cheeks.

“Stop it.”

He smiles with James Wright’s thin mouth.

“Something the matter?”

He has Peter squealing into his sheets within the week. It takes quite some time but he does, in the end, extract a very satisfying apology.

The Institute is built to impress and intimidate. Anyone entering is confronted with an austere yet majestic foyer, in the shadow of two grand staircases that merge into a balcony just outside his office. It’s always been Jonah’s favorite place to stand, to watch the lobby with physical eyes.

He spots Jon down there and waves. His new archivist wearily waves back.

He gives Jon this:

 _Clothes pulled hastily aside, sweat-slick skin on skin. Dark hands white-knuckled on the banister,_ _d_ _ark eyes staring down. Dozens of faces staring up._

_“You want all these people to watch me cum inside you?"_

_Gushing slick, shaking knees, whimpering, crying, exhausted after countless orgasms._

_“Yes, please! Oh, please, Elias, please.”_

Jon fumbles and drops his bag, red-faced. Snaps at three different people who try to help. He’s confused, disgusted, and incredibly embarrassed. It weighs on his mind for days, and he never does quite manage to look up at the balcony again.

Jonah admits he’s a vain man, but he doesn’t always include himself, in fact he usually doesn't. That’s not the point.

Take Tim Stoker, recently scarred (though somehow even more handsome for it), traumatized and enraged by the Archivist’s paranoid antics.

He gives Tim this:

_Weak struggles, skinny wrists bruising and creaking under a much stronger grip._

_“Miserable little bastard, you owe me.”_

_A stern face screwed up with t_ _ears, a cruel mouth trembling around frantic pleas and apologies._ _Suspicious eyes full of fear._

_“No, Tim please, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry don’t do this please don’t do this.”_

_Pushing in, not slick enough but nice and tight, and the pain on that sour face is worth it._

_“_ _No!”_ _A_ _watery cry, a whimper. A jolt of sadistic pleasure._

Tim is disgusted with himself, and that only makes him angrier with Jon. Only makes him snap more viciously. He would never, of course he wouldn’t. That’s what makes it fun.

It would of course be more fun if he could show Tim what Jon actually has down there, sew a hint of disgust or a sting of fetishizing arousal. But of course, if Jonah includes something Tim doesn’t actually know about, he may realize the thought isn’t actually his own. He’d very much like not to have to kill Tim, and giving up such a delightful pastime is completely out of the question.

Jon’s angry face is so close, so close he can smell sweat and skin and all the little elements that make him up. Dust and ink and spiced teas and cheap soap.

He gives Jon this:

 _S_ _oft_ _sheets_ _and low lights_ _. Gentle touches. A small, skinny body loose and yielding, utterly relaxed. Perhaps a little drunk, a little high, or perhaps just soft and sleepy._

 _Quiet moans, soft sighs._ _Tasting the skin under his jaw, slick bodies_ _slo_ _t_ _ted_ _together seamlessly. A hand at the back of Jon’s neck, supporting his head_ _as he lies utterly boneless._ _S_ _ucking kisses_ _to_ _his throat_ _._

 _Dark eyes soft and trusting._ _Stern mouth softened and gasping a name--_

He has to stop himself. He can’t give himself away so soon.

One day, though. One day Jon will look at him with soft eyes and say _Jonah_ like it’s a prayer.

Or maybe he’ll lose his patience. He could have him any time he wants. Elias Bouchard’s body is fit, strong.

He could just twist Jon’s arm up behind his back right now. Grab him by his messy braid, wrap it over his hand for a good grip and grind his face into the floor. Have him whimpering _no no no_ into the carpet, have his eyes full of tears, taste the horror and the shame and slide himself into soft, wet heat. Come so deep inside that Jon will buy every pregnancy test he can get his hands on and _obsess_ until his next blood. (Or until it doesn’t come, and he gets to watch his Archivist realize it’s taken root).

Jon recoils, pale. He radiates terror, flees the office, and Elias is so, _so_ proud of him.


End file.
